A Not So Charming Revenge
by Aislinn Rose
Summary: What happens when an old enemy comes back after the boys and decides to use Charming's Sons of Anarchy to exact revenge on Dean and capture Sam?
1. Chapter 1

Loud music with a heavy beat blasted out of the old jukebox that sat by the bars well worn wooden dance floor. Cigarette smoke hung heavy over the patron's heads; its tiny tendrils winding their way up towards the ceiling. Scantily dressed women mingled through the crowd each looking for their next free drink while eager men called out to them. A pool table which sat in a far corner had a group of men huddled around it razzing one of their own as he lost another game.

A petite redhead wove her way through the smoke and the crowd her eyes locked onto her latest target. A sultry smile formed on her overly painted red lips as she sat in the booth across from him. She thirstily drank in his appearance. He was tall and obviously well built under all those layers of clothes, she had noticed that when he had first entered the bar. His sandy blond hair was cropped close to his head and his long fingers were peeling the label off his beer bottle.

She sat waiting for him to look up at her and when he did she found herself looking into the most striking set of green eyes she had ever seen. The depth of emotion that she gleaned from them was immense and she instantly knew that this man had seen more than his fair share of hard times. Releasing a breath, she hadn't noticed she had been holding, she regained her composer and introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Kloe," she said her voice sweet as honey.

"Dean," the man replied his voice husky and deep.

"Dean," Kloe said the name dripping off her tongue, "Well it's nice to meet you. Would you mind if I joined you and maybe bought you a drink?"

Dean looked at the redhead sitting on the other side of the booth. "I'm flattered. I really am, but now isn't a good time, maybe, some other time." What did I just say? What did I just do, he silently berated himself. I can't believe I turned her down. Did I not notice the ass on her? Sam you are so in for it. Your not even here and you're still a wet blanket.

She smiled at him and said she understood, even as the sting of rejection set in. She had never been turned down before. This was new to her and she found herself at a temporary loss of what to do. Getting herself in check she excused herself and walked over to the group of men she had noticed playing pool and scoped them out, looking for a new target. It didn't take her long.

This dupe also had blond hair but his was a little lighter in color and longer, falling just to his shoulders. This man had blue eyes and while they lacked the depth of the other, she could still tell that he too had seen his fair share of trouble. She smiled at him and introduced herself to him, once again receiving a polite turn down.

Two for two she thought as she turned to leave. She had made it to the end of the pool table when she felt a hand on her arm. Turning she found herself looking into the cold brown eyes of another man. This man had brown hair and was much older than the other two; but right now she would settle for any port in the storm. She sweetly smiled at him and introduced herself, "Hello, I'm Kloe."

The man smiled back, the smile sending a slight shiver up her spine, "Well, Kloe, my name is Alex, but you can call me Tig."

"Tig," Kloe repeated, "How about you and I go somewhere a little more private? I just need to use into the ladies room then I'd be set to go."

"Sure thing sweet cheeks," the look this man was giving her had her wondering if maybe she shouldn't reconsider the offer.

Kloe walked into the bathroom and headed over to the mirror. Looking at her reflection she felt her stomach roil. Turning the water on and setting it to cold she cupped her hands under the stream to catch some and then splashed it onto her heated cheeks. Wrenching a paper towel out of the dispenser she patted her face dry and once again looked at her reflection. "How could I have sunk so low," she said quietly to herself, "I know that man is looking for a one-nighter and that he is probably some sick pervert, into all sorts of sick sex games, and yet I'm going to go with him. Have I really fallen that hard?"

"Well, to be honest, sweetheart, yes," a tall brunette answered from behind Kloe, causing her to jump and spin around. The brunette walked over to Kloe and placed a hand on the girl's cheek. "I can help you if you'd like," the brunette stated her steely blue eye's piercing into Kloe's hazel ones, "I can make this so much easier for you, all you have to do is ask."

Kloe pulled away from the strange woman's touch. "Who are you," she asked her voice shaking with the panic that began to build inside her. "Who are you? And what do mean you can help make it easier for me?"

"My name is not important," the brunette answered her eye's flashing for a brief moment, "the only thing that is important is the fact that I can make it easier for you. I can make it so you are the one with the control. I can make it so the one you really want to be with is the one you end up with. It won't start tonight, I'm sorry; for things to go the way they need to; you have to leave with Tig. But, I can promise you the one you want will be yours. You just have to do one little thing for me."

Kloe stood listening to the woman; her mind trying to process what the woman was saying. She wanted to trust her gut and tell the woman to go to Hell, but the temptation was strong. Ever since she had moved to Charming her life had been less then charming. The only job she could get was being a waitress at the local greasy spoon and that was less than glamorous. She spent her days slopping food for the just as greasy truck drivers and her nights cruising the bar looking for a distraction. The offer was too good to pass up. Before she had really thought things over Kloe found herself agreeing, "Ok, I'll do it. Whatever you need me to do I'm in."

The brunette smiled and threw her head back. A thick black cloud rushed out of her mouth and into Kloe's. The brunette's body fell in a lifeless heap at Kloe's feet and her eye's swiftly flashed to black then back to hazel. Kloe turned and once again looked in the mirror; this time what she saw terrified her. She saw herself being held captive in her own body; her captor wearing it as if it was nothing more than a costume. From inside her mind she heard a cold hard laugh and someone whispering, "It's to late Kloe. No backing out now. You're mine. Now, let's go have some fun."

Kloe threaded her way through the crowd and made her way back to Tig. She reached out and took his beer, taking a long draw from it before setting it down on the pool table. Brushing her lips against his ear she whispered, "Let's go."

Dean watched as Kloe left the bar. He let his eyes wander over her body and again mentally kicked himself for turning her down. Once again his brother's voice echoed through his mind, "We're in a war here, Dean. You've got to pull yourself together, Dean. We're talking end of the world here, Dean. We've got to keep the final seal from breaking, Dean. I'm the only one who can do it, Dean." Slamming his beer down onto the table, Dean ran his hands through his hair and over his face.

Setting some money down on the table, he stood and started to make his way to the exit. The night was ruined for him. What little peace he had found had been shattered by his brother's voice as it continued to echo through his mind. Staggering over to his car, he pulled his keys from his pocket and dropped them. He bent down to pick them up when he felt something hard hit him on the back of his head. He no longer heard his brother's voice. Instead he heard this loud ringing that was soon quieted by the darkness that claimed him.


	2. Chapter 2

I feel kind of silly placing this here, but thought maybe I should put it somewhere as other stories I have read have it. Disclaimer: I don't own, nor do I have any connection at all with Supernatural or Sons of Anarchy; the characters and all that go with said shows are the sole property of the creators and the studios. I'm just borrowing them for a little while.

I would also like to state that Kloe is an OC I put in as a way to bring the old enemy back (who you'll meet in this update). Thanks to those who have read and Thank-You to those who have commented. Now on with the story.

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><p>Dean slowly came to, the ringing in his ears coming back as the pounding in his head intensified. Carefully he lifted his head and looked around trying to get some semblance of where he was and how he had gotten there. He noticed that he was tied to an old rusty metal fold out chair in what appeared to be an office in a rundown warehouse.<p>

Crates were stacked four high at the outer edge of the room some of them visible under the large window at the front of the office. Some of the crates were open and he could see their contents, Guns! The crates held unassembled Russian automatic assault rifles.

His head continued to beat out its painful melody as his body joined in with one of its own. Just what the hell happened, he thought as he closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the room and its spinning, which was making him nauseous. He tried to remember the last thing he was doing before he woke up here but the fog in his head was too thick.

A soft giggle penetrated the fog that was holding his head hostage and alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone. The redhead from the night before sidled into his line of vision and knelt before him. She tightly gripped his chin and pulled his face up so she could look him directly in the eyes. A small involuntary shiver ran up the tied hunter's spine at the coldness that her hazel eyes held.

Kloe, smiled as she took note of the slight shiver and she roughly pulled her hand from his chin dragging her nails along the soft flesh leaving small deep scratches in their wake. She smiled again as he tried to stifle the small gasp of pain her action had brought forth. Slowly she walked around him trailing her hand along his chest then shoulders as she made her way to stand behind him.

She leaned into him her chest pressed tightly into the back of his head. Her hands snaked down his chest then snapped back up to rest under his chin forcing his head back making him arch his back to keep her from snapping his neck. She stood looking down at him enjoying the pain this caused him as she held him in this most uncomfortable position.

He stared back at her his green eye's blinking as they began to water. What the hell is going on? Who the hell is she and why is she doing this to? Were questions that ran through his mind as he silently began to pray she would loosen her grip on him.

As if she had read his mind she released her hold and violently pushed his head forward. Once again she ran her hands along his shoulders then his chest and knelt down in front of him. He sat his head hanging so that his chin touched his chest. His breathing was quick and pained and this amused her. She reached out, wound her hand through his hair and pulled his face up so she could look into his eyes.

She purred as his brilliant green eyes flashed with anger. He was handsome, of that there had never been any doubt. She had wanted him from the very moment she had first laid her hosts eyes on him, those three long years ago.

She had been sent to kill him and to trick his brother into her father's servitude. She had failed miserably. Her failure had resulted in the murders of both her brother and her father. Her failure had also resulted in her being sent back to the very place she had worked so hard to claw her way out of in the first place.

Kloe's eyes flashed with fury and he tried to turn his head away from her. She found this reaction amusing and she slowly stood up. She turned towards the office door but before she had even taken a step she spun around on her heels and delivered a punishing backhanded slap to the left side of his face.

The blow sent both he and the chair falling backwards onto the offices hard tiled floor. Dean let out a howl of pain as the weight of his body landed on his arms which had been tied behind him. He lay there on his back, his weight crushing his arms as tears of rage and pain seeped from his eyes.

Fast as a cat Kloe crouched down by his prone body and wrapped her hands around his throat. She laughed, clearly enjoying the panic she had instilled in him. He tried to wiggle free from her vice like grip but his movement was hindered by the ties that bound him to the chair. After several agonizing moments she let go and righted his chair.

Dean sat coughing his body replaying its previous symphony of pain only this time with much more enthusiasm than before. He looked up at the woman standing over him, his pain all but forgotten as adrenaline and rage kicked in. "You f***ing bitch," he growled, "You're gonna regret this, I promise."

Kloe placed her hands on his shoulders, bent down and whispered in his ear, "Now, now such language. Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth of yours?" She stood and walked towards the office door. Stopping she turned around a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips, which grew as her final remark hit its intended mark, "Oh, wait , that's right, you don't she's dead."

Dean stared at the woman's back as she left the office. "Meg," he questioned aloud, and then thought, no it can't be we sent her back.


	3. Chapter 3

Meg's footsteps echoed through the warehouse as she made her way back to the small apartment that had been set up on the upper level. She quietly entered the tiny bedroom and smiled at the man who lay sleeping on the well used bed, his naked body barely covered by the well worn and used sheet.

She sat down on the bed and ran her fingers through his greasy hair. She looked over his exposed body and took notice of the scars that covered it. From what she saw, she concluded this man had been shot up, stabbed and beaten many times. She let her fingers glide along the tattoo that covered his body from his shoulders to the small of his back.

A Reaper holding a scythe in his right hand and a crystal ball with an A in his left, the words Sons of Anarchy written above the Reaper and California written below, the letters MC (which stood for Motorcycle Club) written next to the Reaper on its left made up the tattoo.

Meg smiled at the man as he slowly opened his brown eyes and looked up at her. She hadn't considered him to be attractive, but, even she had to admit that his sexual appetite was voracious and he had left her feeling more than satisfied. To be honest, he had put many of her demon lover's to shame.

"Good morning, lover," she said as she bent her head down and kissed him, her tongue pushing deep into his mouth. She released the kiss and sat back.

"What are you still doing here," he asked, "I thought I told you to be gone before I woke up." He sat up, threw the sheet off and headed to the bathroom. He left the bathroom door open and continued to speak to her as he took care of his business. "Were you listening to me, you stupid bitch," he called out, "I asked you, what are you still doing here."

Meg reigned in her anger, after all he didn't know who he was talking to and right now she needed him. She stood up and walked over to the open bathroom door. Standing just inside the doorframe, she answered him, "Well, I'm not still here, for you. Last night was less than stellar, you know." She caught the way his muscles tensed at her attack of his male prowess. "I'm here because of our mutual friend who is tied up downstairs. You do remember him don't you?"

The man finished his business, flushed, and then washed his hands. He headed back to the bedroom stopping long enough to slap Meg hard across the face. The slap stung and tears welled up in her eyes. She clenched her hands and took a deep breath. She needed him. She had looked deep into his soul the night before and saw the blackness that resided there. This man had the necessary skills to extract from Dean the information that she so desperately needed. This man was the human equivalent to Alistair.

At the thought of Alistair, Meg shuddered. She knew that Alistair was dead and gone; he had been destroyed by Sam Winchester. She also knew that this man wouldn't stand a fair chance against her; he would be dead before he could even set a hand on her. However, the evil that burned in him, while he was still human frightened her. She knew that once the fires of hell had their chance to work on him, he would grow into something far worse than Alistair had ever dreamt of being.

She entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She stood in front of the mirror and noticed the red mark that had formed were his hand had met her face. She turned the water on and waited until it ran cold. Slipping her hands under the stream of water she caught some and splashed the cool liquid on her face.

After she had dried her face off and combed her fingers through her hair she exited the bathroom and headed to the bedroom door. A hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. She found herself being pushed backward and pressed hard against the far wall. Angry brown eyes looked deep into her hazel eyes and she felt herself shiver. From deep within she felt her arousal level grow and from the hardness that was pressing against her inner thighs she felt his as well.

Their cries of passion bounced around the warehouse walls and made their way to the office that Dean was being held in. His stomach turned as he thought of the girl who was trapped inside her own body and he remembered the words Meg had said to him as she lay dying on Bobby's floor.

He remembered how she had thanked him for freeing her from the demon's grip even though it meant her certain death. She had told him how she had been awake through some of it and was forced to watch herself commit awful acts as the demon pulled her strings.

He remembered the pretty girl who just the night before had asked him if she could by him a drink. He remembered how he had turned her down and she had gone in search of someone else. He remembered and he felt guilty. He felt guilty because, he believed if he hadn't have turned her down, she wouldn't be trapped like she is now. He felt guilty because, deep down, he believed he could have saved her.

Alex "Tig" Trager laid on the bed looking at the small red head beside him, something about her intrigued him. His usual routine was to love 'em and make 'em leave, but this one; this one had managed to stay. This one had managed to peak his interest in more ways than one. He reached out to slap her on her butt when his eyes caught site of his watch and his mind registered what time it was.

"crap," he mumbled as he jumped out of the bed and grabbed his clothes from the floor. Tig, as he liked to be called, headed to the bathroom and turned the water on in the shower.

Meg watched the man go into the bathroom and got up to follow him. She waited for a few moments before she offered to join him in the shower. "Sorry," Tig replied, "don't have the time. I'm already late for a club meeting. I really need for you to get your crap around and leave. I don't care where you go, but you can't stay here."

Not used to being turned down, Meg felt her anger growing, yet again. She clenched and unclenched her hands and took in deep calming breaths. "You need him," she whispered to herself, then to Tig she said, "I can't leave. I can't leave my friend alone, he might escape."

Tig turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel off a hook on the wall, but instead of drying himself off he flicked the towel out and caught Meg right below her left eye. Smiling as she stared at him wide eyed in shock, he grabbed her by her throat and pushed her up against the bathroom wall.

His brown eyes burned with fury and when he spoke his voice did as well. "I told you, you are leaving and YOU ARE LEAVING," he hissed, "Don't worry about the poor bastard he aint going anywhere. I will relay to the club what you told me last night and we will decide what to do with him." He let go of her and finished drying as if nothing had happened.

Meg watched as he dressed then headed down to the office where Dean was being held. In stunned silence she quickly dressed, grabbed the rest of her things and followed him. Her hand went to her throat and gingerly touched the bruised skin. You need him, she kept thinking to herself. You need him.

Meg entered the office to find that Tig had moved Dean from the chair upon which he had been tied to and had stuffed him into one of the empty crates they used to ship the illegal guns they ran in. She couldn't help but smile at the look of panic on Dean's face.

The crate was the size of a pine box coffin and Meg was certain that being trapped inside the box had to be digging up memories that Dean would prefer stay buried. Tig placed the lid on top of the crate and nailed it shut. Muffled cries could be heard from inside the box. Tig drew his foot back and kicked the side of the crate hard. Sneering as the cries died out he grabbed Meg roughly by the arm and lead her outside.

Dark and cramped, the inside of the box set the perfect atmosphere for the hellish images that Dean had, so desperately been holding at bay, to break free from their dam and rush forward. As memory after memory crashed against his already fragile psyche, pulling the wounded man deeper and deeper into his torment, he let out one last strangled cry and his mind pulled him into the safety of unconsciousness, where his beaten and battered soul could escape.


	4. Chapter 4

A most sincere thank you to all those who have read and reviewed. I really appreciate the reviews, and to you lurkers out there, thank you for reading, I really appreciate that as well. Here's another update. I hope you enjoy. I realize that this story is heavy with Supernatural and light with Son's; I apologize for that. It's just I'm more comfortable writting Supernatural and am working on getting comfortable with Son's, because who doesn't love those bad boys.

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><p>The words on the lap-top's computer screen once again blurred and Sam rubbed the palms of his hands over his tired eyes. Standing up the lanky hunter closed the lid of his lap-top and walked over to the coffee pot that sat on the old Formica counter of the kitchenette in the latest crap hole that he and his brother had chosen to stay in. Turning his nose up at the sludge that tried to pass it's self off as coffee, Sam poured himself a mug and took a sip.<p>

He spit out the bitter tasting liquid and poured the remainder down the sink. Looking over to the bed that sat closest to the door his brow furrowed. In the past Sam wouldn't have worried, his brother spending the night out with some random girl wasn't all that uncommon, but that was the past; that was before. That was before Lilith, Ruby and the seals. That was before his brother had gone to Hell. That was before; when his brother was his brother and not who he was now.

Sam looked at his watch then back to his brother's bed. It was around nine, the night before, when Dean had left the motel room. Sam winced as he remembered the loud bang the door had made when his older sibling had slammed it shut in his frustration. Sam looked at his watch again the dial telling him that it was now eleven the next morning. Dean had been out for over twelve hours, no call, no sign that he was alright. Sam really began to worry.

Grabbing his duffel from the stained brown and yellow shag carpeted floor, he tossed it onto his bed. He pulled out a fresh set of clothes and quickly stripped out of the sweat pants and tee-shirt he had thrown on after his shower. He had just gotten his second boot on and tied when his cell rang.

"Dean," he questioned as he answered.

"No, it's not Dean, Sammy," a female's voice answered.

Sam stiffened. "Where's Dean? Why do you have his phone," Sam demanded.

The woman laughed, "Oh, Sammy, Dean's right where I left him. I wanted to give you a call and since I don't have your number I figured I would use your brother's phone, he doesn't need it at the moment. How ya been, Sammy? I have heard some very disturbing things lately. I heard that you are traipsing around with a demon and that your brother doesn't approve. Can't really blame him after all; I mean, with all he went through for you. Really, Sammy, is that how you pay someone back?"

"My name is Sam," Sam said emphasizing his name, "and just what exactly do you know about me and my brother?"

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," The woman said her voice smooth as silk, "I know a lot more than you'd think. For instance, I know that you were chosen by Azazeal for a special purpose and that you and your brother are responsible for his death. I know that your brother sold his soul for you. I had the displeasure of running into your brother during his short stay in Hell. Let's just say that he gave me an all too new reason to want revenge. I know that you tried to trade yours for him and that no one would trade. I know that you teamed up with Ruby and began a crusade to find Lilith and kill her. I know that you have been developing your powers and that you killed Alistair. Oh, Sammy, I know lots more. But, most importantly I know where your brother is now. I know that his fate rests in your hands. How much he suffers is up to you. It's all up to you."

Sam's hands and jaw clenched. This bitch knew where Dean was and from the sounds of it he was in trouble. Reigning in his emotion he replied, "What do you mean how he much he suffers is all up to me? What have you done with him? Where is he?"

"Easy there, Sammy," she retorted, "What I mean is this, if you come out to play I promise that it will be over quickly for Dean; he wont feel a thing. But, if you stay hidden away my associates and I will be forced to try to get your whereabouts out of your brother, and you know as well as I do just how stubborn he can be when it comes to protecting you. It's up to you, Sammy, he can either die quick and painlessly or he can die slow and agonizingly. It's your choice."

"Well, that's a hell of a choice," Sam ground out, "How about neither?"

"Sammy, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you cared more about Dean than that. Oh, well, I guess I'll get to have more fun. I have to admit I was rather looking forward to it. A little payback for what he did to me while we were in the pit. You have my, oh sorry, your brother's number if you should change your mind. Bye, Sammy."

Sam stood still, his phone still pressed to his ear. His mind raced as he processed the conversation. Someone had his brother and from what he could tell they were using Dean to get to him. It also sounded like they were going to use this opportunity to get in a little revenge. Sam knew he couldn't trust what he had been told. He knew that even if he did come out to play, as she had put it, Dean was in for a world of hurt. He had to play this one smart if he was going to get both of them out of this. He needed backup.

Sam pulled his phone away from his ear and searched through the preprogrammed numbers until he found the one he was looking for. He punched the number and waited for the other person to pick up, "Hey, it's me Sam. Look something has happened and I need your help. How soon do you think you can be here?"


	5. Chapter 5

"It's about time," Sam snapped as he pulled the door to his room open his judgment clouded by fear and weariness.

"Excuse me," Bobby snapped back the old hunter himself weary from his latest trip.

Sam ran a hand down his face then through his hair. He let out a huff of air, dropped his hands to sides and his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry Bobby," he sheepishly replied, "It's just," Sam shrugged his shoulders and his chin dropped to his chest.

Bobby's expression softened and he placed a hand on the younger mans shoulder. He knew things were rough for the brothers right now. Dean's homecoming hadn't been what either had expected and some major issues with trust had evolved. He also knew that this trip to Charming was meant to be a break for them, a time for them to work on their differences; an opportunity for them to get back in sync with each other. The last thing they needed right now was someone or something getting in the way of that.

"C'mon, Sam," Bobby softly said, "Let's sit down and you explain to me what's going on. From there we'll work on figuring out a way of getting that idjit of a brother back."

Sam started from the beginning. He told Bobby about the fight they had last night, how Dean stormed off and about the call he had received early that morning. He told Bobby that he couldn't' be sure but something about the way the demon sounded, well it sounded familiar.

"I can't believe this. We came here for a break and looks like we ran smack into a set up. Bobby, she said that it's up to me what happens to Dean," Sam stops his pacing and turns to look at his surrogate uncle. Bobby melts when he sees the depth of worry and pain reflected in the younger man's eyes.

"Bobby," Sam begins his voice thick with guilt, "this thing wants me. It's using Dean to get to me. It told me that how he dies is up to me. It said if I played along and showed myself he'd go quick and painless, but if I didn't it'd try to make him tell it where I am. If it does that….." Sam drops heavily down on his bed and puts his face in his hands. He feels the tears come and he lets them fall, to tired to try to stop them.

"We'll get him back, Sam," Bobby emphatically states. Bobby startles when Sam jumps to his feet.

"Yeah, I know," Sam calmly says. "You know how I know," Sam asks and waits for Bobby to shake his head before he answers, "I know because I'm going to do what she wants." Sam heads for the door and stops when he feels Bobby pulling on his arm.

"Stop, right there, Samuel," Bobby spits out, "I didn't come all this way for you to turn yourself over to this thing. Nu uh! We're gonna work this out. We'll get your brother back but not by giving it you. You even hear what you told me? It's planning on killing him no matter what. I know it's a hard thing to hear but the longer you stay out of it's hands the better chance we have of getting your brother out alive."

Bobby raises his hand to stop Sam's protest. "You know I'm right boy," Bobby quips his tone brokering no room for argument; "You know I'm right. I know the position you're in sucks but if you go turning yourself over I'm gonna end up with one, possibly two, dead Winchesters on my hands. Sides, you know your brother wouldn't go for this either."

Sam knew what Bobby had said was the truth, but damn if it wasn't a tough pill to swallow. He knew that if the shoe had been on the other foot Dean would have already been out looking for him; but he wasn't Dean and Dean would so have his ass if he tried to be.

Going against his instinct to get out there was killing Sam, but he knew Bobby was right. Jumping right in would only seal both their fates; no he had to calm down. He had to think; to work out a plan and once he did he would make the bitch pay.

Bobby relaxed when he realized the youngest Winchester wasn't going to do anything foolish. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and guided him over to one of the chairs sat around a tiny table. "We'll get him, Sam, I promise. Now let's get to work."


	6. Chapter 6

_Ok, well I'm nervous about this chapter. As I had stated earlier I'm not that comfortable writing Sons yet and this chapter deals with them. I hope you like. Again, thank you to those who have read, and to those who have commented a huge thank you, I really do appreciate them._

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><p>"You're late," Clay Morrow shot at Tig when he entered the Son's meeting room.<p>

Tig tossed a manila folder on the table in front of Clay and one in front of Jackson "Jax" Teller. "I know," he grumbled, "but I have good reason."

"What's this," Jax asked as he looked through the file. His expression grew harder as he flipped through the pieces of paper before him.

Clay's expression was a match to that of his step-son and when he spoke his voice was low and dangerous. "Where did you get this," Clay queried as he held up a few of the pictures from his file, "these look like surveillance photos."

Tig nodded, his expression grim, and answered, "Off this guy I met last night."

"Dude you telling me that hot girl you left with last night was really a dude," Juan-Carlos otherwise known as Juice piped up, "What a tough break."

"Uh, no," Tig shot back, "She was all woman let me tell you, wow," Tig's eyes took on a far away look as he thought back to the night before. A not so gentle clearing of the throat brought him back from his reminiscing. "It was this guy she had tried to take home before she moved on. She told me out in the parking lot before we left that I might want to take a peek in his trunk that I might be interested in what I found.

I popped the trunk and discovered a box with these files in them. Kloe, the sweet butt I took home, explained to me that she had recognized the man from back east. She told me that when she was younger this man's father had paid her family a visit. He busted into their home and murdered her father; seems he wanted to take over her father's territory.

Kloe, who had hidden in a closet when the man broke in noticed that he wasn't alone that he had a younger man with him. She heard the older man explain to his son how in their business there wasn't any room for squeamishness that sometimes it was necessary to take out the competition, especially when they wouldn't agree to a viable working relationship.

She knows how we take care of things around here and figured we wouldn't want his kind here. When I saw what was in those files I decided to take matters in my own hands and take him out.

Kloe kept me from killing him right there. She explained how he has a younger brother and that their next victim/victims aren't safe as long as he's free. She told us we can use the older one to bait the younger one out.

We took him back to the warehouse and stayed in the apartment overnight. I guess the whole thing was a turn on for her, because…"

"Tig, spare us the details man" Jax broke in a slight grimace on his face, "Why didn't you call a club meeting last night? We should have been on this hours ago. You said that the guy's a drug dealer from out east? But, that doesn't explain why he has these photos of Tara, my mom and Able. What do they have to do with anything?"

"Leverage," Clay spoke up.

"Come again," Jax queried.

Clay fixed his gaze on his step-son, "Leverage. If they're thinking of setting up shop here in Charming they would have done some digging and have heard about how we deal with their kind. I bet they were keeping an eye on Tara, Gemma and your son so they could blackmail us into staying out of their business. You know threaten them or something like that.

I bet the cocky son of a bitch didn't expect to get recognized out here and felt safe enough to hang with us at our bar, do a little more recon on the club. Or at least that's how I would have played it."

"Yeah, alright let's say I buy this whole thing," Chibbs spoke up with his thick Irish accent, "Isn't it possible that she could have made this up to get back at the poor fool who dared to turn her down?"

Tig turned to his fellow biker, "Yeah, it could be," he pushed out between gritted teeth, "but how would you explain these photos? I saw her with him, she wouldn't have had time to slip out and put them in his car before she came over to us. Hell, why would she have had them on her in the first place? She didn't know he was going to be there. No, it's the real deal. We have a threat to the club and to Charming."

"Tigg's right," Clay chimed in, "Juice, see what you can dig up on this guy and his brother, call me and let me know what you find out. Chibbs, I want you, Happy and Piney to go by the house pick up Gemma and Able and bring them back here. Jax, you and Opie go to the hospital, keep a watch on Tara and bring her back here when her shifts over. I'll ride out to the warehouse with Tig and Happy see if we can't get some info out of our unwelcome guest."

Clay stood from the table, signaling to everyone it was time to get moving, he laid a hand on Jax's shoulder drawing the younger man's attention to him, and "After you have Tara settled here I want for you to come out to the warehouse. I also think that we should round up all the other club member's families and have them secured here while we sort this out."

Jax nodded and followed the others out. He felt a tight knot form in the pit of his stomach. He had just gotten to bring his infant son home, for the first time since he had been born prematurely, from the hospital and some stranger had the nerve to think about using him as leverage? Nope, no way was that gonna happen. That sick bastard was in for a world of hurt. No one threatened Jax Teller's family; no one.


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing Dean noticed was the tingling, numbing pain that had set into his hands and arms. The second thing he noticed was the reason for that pain, his arms had been secured behind his back and he was laying on them. The last thing he noticed was the confined space in which he was laying. Panic swelled in his chest and a small whimper passed over his lips as he silently begged for the comforting oblivion of unconsciousness again.

A creak and mumbled curse let him know that the time for comfort had passed. The lid to his makeshift coffin was pried open and he felt coarse hands reach in and roughly pull him out. His body protested the crude treatment it was being dealt and his legs gave way. He fell to his knees, hands still behind his back, head bent and slightly leaning forward the only thing preventing him from falling face first onto the warehouse's cement floor was the tight painful grip someone had on the rope that bound his hands.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, receiving a forceful tug on the ropes and hard slap to his face for his trouble. He lifted his head, felt the trickle of blood as it slipped out of the cut from the corner of his mouth and he smiled. His eyes sparked with anger and before he could stop himself he spit into the face of the man who had knelt down in front of him.

To his credit the man remained calm. He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket, wiped the mixture of blood and spittle off his face and sent his fist hard enough into Dean's face that the blow toppled him over onto his back, his legs caught under his torso.

"Get that piece of shit up," Clay growled, "I think it's time he learnt some manners."

Tig lifted Dean up off the floor and held him up so that he was standing in front of Clay. Clay wound his fingers through Dean's hair and pulled his head up so that he could look the younger man in the eye. "That wasn't very polite," he quipped.

"Yeah, well neither is tying up a guy and locking him in a crate, but you don't hear me complaining," Dean ground out then, huffed when a fist connected with his stomach knocking the air out of him. "What the hell," he mumbled, "Dude, if this is your idea of foreplay I have to let you know I'm not into any of this." Another jab to the stomach had him wishing he could keep his big mouth shut.

"You're a real comedian aren't ya," Clay replied, "Well let's see how funny you are when we're finished with ya." Clay headed out the office door followed closely by Tig and Dean.

Clay led them to another section of the warehouse where old shop equipment had been stored. Tig pulled Dean over to where a heavy chain hung loose from a pulley and retied his hands in front of him. He then looped the rope over the hook connected to the end of the chain and pulled the chain until Dean stood dangling from the hook, his arms stretched painfully over his head while his toes barely touched the concrete floor.

Meg stood off in the shadows and watched. A sadistic smile lit her face as she thought about just how sweet revenge could be. She pulled Dean's phone out her pocket and dialed the first number on its speed dial.

Sam answered his phone on the first ring, putting it on speakerphone so Bobby could listen in as well. The first sound he heard was a muffled scream and a string of expletives that he knew could only mean one thing….Dean was in trouble.

Sam felt his blood go cold and angers icy hand grip his heart. "You bitch. I swear when I find you, you'll wish you had just packed up and left."

"Oh, Sammy, you know how to make a girl all tingly. You have the power to end his pain Sam. Come out and play, that's all you have to do."

"Go to hell," Sam snapped back.

"Been there done that, don't want to do it again. You know I have your brother to thank for my last trip below," she paused to let Sam hear another of his brothers pained cries, "looks like he appreciates my gratefulness." Meg hung up the phone and slipped out of the warehouse.

Sam sat staring at his phone his heart having dropped to his feet. Bobby placed a hand on Sam's arm, "I know, Sam, but you gotta think this through. Won't do you or Dean any good to go and get yourself caught. We'll get him back."

"I know Bobby. I know." Sam pulled out of St. Thomas' parking lot, where he had stopped to see if Dean had been admitted last night, as two other men on motorcycles pulled in.

Tara Knowles sat in her office looking over her notes for her next surgery when Jax entered followed by Opie. She could tell by the looks on their faces that this wasn't a social visit and she once again wondered why she had started things back up with Jax.

Her life had been less complicated after she left Charming and took up a residency in Chicago. The only reason she had come back was to close up her father's estate after he passed, well that and to put some distance between herself and the ATF agent she had been dating.

She hadn't planned on getting back with Jax, her high school sweetheart, but like a moth to a flame she was drawn to him and soon she found herself falling for him all over again. Then Able had been born prematurely to Jax's drugged out ex-wife and Tara found herself caring very deeply for the baby whose life she had been entrusted to save.

After Jax had helped her to dispose of her crazy ex-boyfriend, the Sons of Anarchy way, she couldn't stop herself and she let him completely in. She could still feel his breath on her skin and his hands on her body as they once again consummated the feelings they both shared.

But, it was times like this that had Tara wondering if love was enough. She could deal with the hospital administration and what they thought of her relationship, hell she could even deal with Jax's mother, but it was the constant fear of attack from a rival club that she found more than a little difficult to live with. She had left Chicago to get away from it and allowed herself to walk right back into the same sort of situation.

Jax's voice brought her out of her reverie. "Hey, babe," Jax said as he walked over and kissed her on her cheek, "there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Can it wait," she asked. She had to get ready for the next operation and there was no way it could be delayed.

"Just give me a few minutes. I know you're busy, but there's been a development and we need for you to stay at the clubhouse until it's cleared up."

"Jax, I can't. You know that. I have patients to look after and this next surgery can't be postponed," Tara replied her frustration showing.

"I know, but this shouldn't take long. I'll stay here and keep an eye out while you take care of things, then we'll head over. If this isn't cleared up by the morning I'll bring you back in and hang out while you work."

"Yeah, like that's going to go over well with Margaret; that bitch already has it in for me. Look, I'll be fine. The hospital's security is top notch. If you feel better you can escort to me to and from work, but you can't just hang out. This job means a lot to me Jax, you know that."

Jax ran a hand down his face. _Damn she can be difficult_, he thought to himself. He could see her point and in the hopes of keeping the peace he agreed to her terms. He made her promise to call him when she was finished so he could come back and follow her to the clubhouse.

"Be careful," he said as he kissed her, "I'm gonna go with Ope to get his mom and kids and take them to the clubhouse. Promise me, you won't leave the building until I'm here to follow you."

"I promise," and with her curiosity peeked she asked, "What's the development?"


	8. Chapter 8

_I'm sorry. I hadn't planned on taking this long for an update. I went A/U with Son's here. I don't know if Gemma ever hooked up with Tig (been implied), but it worked for what I needed and since their in my sandbox I decided to pull a Trickster and bend reality (well fantasy) to my reality. I hope you enjoy._

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><p>"I told you, I don't know anything about any pictures or drug trafficking. I just stopped off to have a beer or two on my way through. I don't know who you're getting your info from but they're wrong," Dean panted out. His arms felt as if they were being stretched beyond their breaking point and the rest of his body well, if the multiple displays of bruises and cuts were any indication wasn't faring all that much better.<p>

Tig, growing frustrated with his captives lack of co-operation drew his fist back and landed another solid punch on the man's already tender left side. A smile of sick satisfaction formed on the bikers lips when a grunt of pain and a stomach-turning crack quickly followed. He drew his fist back again and sneered when he was stopped from carrying through his assault.

"What the hell, Clay," he growled at the man who stopped him, "This prick came to town set on opening shop and with what we know he's ok with using Tara, Gemma and Able to carry through. Not to mention his younger brother's still out there and if we don't get to him soon, your wife and grandson are in danger."

Clay eyed Tig, the man was dangerous on a good day, but when he felt that he, the club or those he cared about were threatened the man was downright sadistically lethal. Clay Morrow was a man who wasn't afraid of anyone, but if pushed he would admit that he had a respectful fear of his Sergeant at Arms.

Clay knew how much Tig cared about Gemma. He couldn't remember when Tig joined the club but he knew John was still alive and running things. It wasn't hidden knowledge that Gemma had become unhappy in her marriage with John and that she had begun to seek outside attention, it was just overlooked. Clay knew that Gemma had spent some time with Tig, before she had turned her attention to Clay. One to follow the power, Gemma knew Clay stood next in line to take over Son's if anything were to happen to John.

Clay shook his head to clear his mind. He needed to focus on the here and now. He let out a slow breath and nodded at his comrade. "I hear what you're saying. But, killing the little prick isn't going to get us any answers. You need to slow down, take it easy. Make him hurt yes, but kill him no," Clay shot a side look at Dean a cold sneer curled his lips, "at least not yet. We need to know what he knows. What his plans are. By the looks of him he's used to this kind of treatment. We need to get creative here, and we need to keep him alive, at least until he talks."

Tig scrubbed a hand down his face. He looked at Clay and even though he heard the wisdom in the other mans words, his not so patient side burned to get answers. He had to admit that he was starting to admire the man they had been questioning, most other men would have cracked by now, but this one was somehow different. Tig shrugged, turned to look at Dean then turned his attention back to Clay. The hot desire to inflict pain upon another that burned deep in his eyes made Clay take an involuntary step backwards.

"Yeah, right, ok," Tig growled his voice reflecting the desire his eyes held, "I guess you're right. So you got any ideas?"

Before Clay could answer another softer, feminine voice replied, "He doesn't. But, I do." Meg stepped out from behind a large tool cabinet. "I bet I can make him talk. And, I'd also bet it wouldn't take as much effort."

Clay took a step towards the unexpected visitor his hand snaked out and grabed her tight around the wrist. He pulled her close, his nose touching hers and snarled, "Just who the hell are you and what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Meg pulled her arm free from Clay's grip and fixed the man with an icy glare. "I can be your best friend or your worse enemy the choice is up to you," she turned to Tig and smiled, "Hello, lover. Miss me?"

Dean watched the scene unfold before him. He realized just how screwed he really was, but he was too tired to really care. He felt the darkness closing in and he gave into it. He no longer felt the painful pull on his arms or the endless song of misery that his battered body insisted on singing. No at that moment he felt nothing, and for that moment it felt good.

Gemma put the last of Able's things into the trunk of her car and pulled out her driveway. She waited until Piney had pulled in front of her and Chibbs and Happy set up behind her before she headed to the clubhouse. She looked in the rearview mirror at her sleeping grandson and felt a twinge in her heart. He was still too little to have his life threatened by some stranger who wanted to slip into town and take over.

She felt her maternal instincts kick in. She felt a strong pull to drive to the warehouse and take care of the asshole herself, but she knew that Clay would have it well under control and that her place was with Able. To took a drag off her cigarette and tossed the butt out her car window. She focused on the reaper jacket in front of her and followed it to the place she would be calling home for a little while.

Tara sat listening to Jax her mind processing the information. She heard everything he had said but one thing didn't sit well with her. The man they had couldn't/wouldn't be doing what they were accusing him of. There was no way in hell that Dean would ever do what they were accusing him of.

Her pager went off and she jumped. "Damn it," she muttered, "Jax I can't explain right now; I have to go to surgery. But I need you to promise me you won't allow them to hurt Dean. Please, promise me. He's not what you think he is."

She waved off his curiosity as she ran out the door. She turned back to him, kissed him and said again, "Please, I'll explain it to you. But, don't let them hurt him please."

Jax watched as Tara rounded a corner. "That was strange," Opie said, "What do you think she meant?"

"Don't know," Jax replied feeling a sense of jealousy forming in the pit of his stomach, "But, until I find out I'm going to follow through with what the club decided. C'mon let's go get your mom and kids and head to the clubhouse. I'll get answers when I come get Tara later."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N I am so sorry that it has taken me this long to post. I have had a hard time with this story and even though I'm not completely happy with this update I'm going to post it, in an effort to get this story moving along. I have a vision of what I want to happen, it's just not coming out on the paper so well. I hope this update is ok and that you enjoy. Thanks for being patient with me.

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><p>Clay glowered at the petite woman standing in front of him. He wasn't in any mood for games, "Look I don't know who you are, but I'd advise you to turn your tight little ass around and leave. I'm only gonna tell you once before…"<p>

Meg stepped into Clay's personal space the glint in her eyes matched the one Tig's held earlier and Clay found himself taking another involuntary step backwards. Meg gently drew a finger along Clay's jaw line before she gripped his chin tight.

She shot a quick glance at Tig then directed her full attention back to Clay her mouth curling into a feral sneer. "Aw, Tiggy, are you gonna let this big bully talk to your sweet butt that way," she hissed.

A cold smile graced her lips when she noticed Tig stalking towards her. She lifted Clay up by his chin and deftly tossed him backwards. She turned her attention to Tig and let her eyes slip to black. "Cause that wouldn't be good for either of you," she cooed.  
>Tig stopped in his tracks and took a step backwards not wanting to believe what he was seeing. "Wwwwwhat are you," Tig stuttered out.<p>

Meg laughed. "Aw, darling you really don't want to know. I can't begin to tell you how disappointed I am in you. I had hoped that you would be able to get out of him what I needed; but, I guess that old saying is true. You know the one; if you want something done right you have to do it yourself. There's only one tiny problem with that, well it's not really tiny, but," she shrugged as she reached out and grabbed Tig by his throat her voice turning steely cold, "It's his brother. You see he's the only one of you humans with the ability to take me out all by his lonesome. I was counting on you to bring him to me in an incapacitated state. Sadly, I'm running out of patience and time."

Meg lifted Tig off the floor by his throat and she started to squeeze. The fear that ebbed off him stirred something deep within her and she had to take a breath. "You understand the thrill that comes with taking a life, don't you lover," she whispered breathily in his ear, "Yes, you do. It's a shame. It really is. I'm getting so turned on right now, but your disappointing showing can't go unpunished. Oh well, I'll just have to find another way to satisfy my needs."

Tig futilely clawed at the hand that was squeezing the very life out of him. He tried to kick out with his feet but couldn't connect with enough force to make her loosen her grip. He felt the darkness close in and was ready to surrender when a weak voice pulled him back.

"Hey, Meg, how about picking on someone your own size," Dean wheezed out. His throat was raw and hurt like hell; hell he hurt all over, but he wasn't going to just hang there and watch as the evil bitch did another human being in, no matter how much he felt the guy deserved it.

Meg let her grip loosen on Tig's throat and he fell with a loud thump to the concrete floor. He sat gasping, his lungs hungry for oxygen, the burn of it making him wince. He looked over at Clay, having been reminded the man was present by a low moan that had come from his direction.

Clay had pulled himself up into a seated position. He had sat and quietly watched the interaction between Tig and the red-head. He couldn't believe what he had witnessed, yet he knew it to be the truth. The woman had thrown him backward, with no effort at all and she had nearly choked his comrade to death with one hand. It didn't add up. She was the one who had told them that the little prick they had been questioning was the threat to them; now it looked like the poor bastard had been telling them the truth that it wasn't him.

Clay watched as the woman prowled towards their captive and he felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. He found it hard to process that just a few moments ago he wanted the man to suffer pain, unimaginable, and now he wasn't so sure. He wondered if maybe Chibbs hadn't been right and this had been a frame up, some sort of sick game this bitch liked to play on men who had scorned her.

"Oh, Deanie, always playing the hero," she said in mock reverie. She flicked her hand and the chain that had been holding him up snapped in two. Dean let out a tortured groan as his body fell limply onto the warehouses unforgiving concrete floor. Meg bent down, grabbed the injured man by his aching wrists and pulled him up so he was standing in front of her.

She let her gaze travel along his shaking body and she found herself admiring Tig's handiwork. Tig could have given Alistair a run for his money if they had both been serving time together, but they hadn't and she no longer had the time needed to enjoy this little show. She needed Sam and she had come to the realization that no matter how much she liked watching Dean get what was coming to him, she couldn't wait for him to break. She had realized he wouldn't, not when it came to protecting his little brother.

She turned towards Tig and motioned for him to come closer. When Tig refused she used her power to drag him over. The look of alarm in his eyes caused her to laugh and she answered his inquisitive stare, "I promise, that one day the look you are giving me, you will be getting from others. You're well on your way as a human; I can't wait to see what you're like as a demon."

Tig shook his head this couldn't be happening. Demons weren't real. But, then again here he was standing next to a woman who had almost chocked the life out of him with her bare hands and whose eyes had slid to black then back again. She had also just flicked her wrist and the chains that had been holding his beating victim up broke in two, sending the man sprawling to the floor. Demons weren't real? Yeah, he really needed to re-evaluate his thought on that.

Meg snapped her fingers in Tig's face to draw his attention back to her. He looked at her and cringed when he realized she had been talking to him and he hadn't responded to her. She sighed, "Tig, dear, I know this is a lot to take in. I'll try and help you understand it all later but right now, if you want a later, I need your help. I need you to get a chair for our friend here. I want him comfortable for the next round. He won't tell me what I want if it's just him being threatened, but I have an ace up my sleeve that just may get him to open up. We can't have him passing out on us again. No, I need him awake. So, please be a good boy and get me a chair."

Tig felt an indignant rage grow in the pit of his stomach. Sure this creature scared the shit out of him, but who the hell did she think she was talking to him like that? Who was she to give him orders? She must have read his mind because before he knew what hit him she had dropped their captive and had grabbed him by his throat.

"Tig. Tiggy," she tsked, "You'd do well not to anger me. I swear you humans are slow. All you need to do is get me a chair. Swallow your pride or I promise you will be swallowing your eyes, followed by your tongue and so on until you've ingested yourself. Do I make myself clear?"

Tig nodded and she coldly smiled. "Good. Now please bring me that chair." She watched in amusement as the man scrambled to do as she ordered. Yes, he might be able to give Alistair's reputation a run for its money after his been burnt into a demon, but for now she was in control and she wouldn't let him forget it.


	10. Chapter 10

I have to admit that story is kicking my ass. It has me chasing my tail and writing it hasn't come easy to me. I know where I want this to go and I ask that you please hold some patience while I work on getting it there. I do appreciate all who have taken the time to (and will hopefully continue) to read. I appreciate any and all comments. So thank you. And I hope this chapter works for you. I'd like to note that I do know Tara is a Pediatric surgeon, but for the sake of the story I have working the ER.

I don't own Supernatural or Sons of Anarchy and I normally try to stay as close to the actual show as possible out of respect for them; but sometimes my sandbox wants to play by it's own rules and some A/U slips in.

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><p>Dean closed his eyes, hung his head and whispered, "Call Sam." The cry of a baby sounded by the doorway and he knew she had found his weakness. He would endure all the pain she and that sick twisted bastard could deal out, but he wasn't going to allow an infant to be hurt. She knew this and she wasn't beyond doing it.<p>

Meg's lips turned up in a triumphant sneer as she held the phone up to his ear. "You always were soft when it came to children," she cooed; her eyes sparking with delight. She couldn't resist twisting the knife a little more, "It wouldn't have needed to come to this if you would have just broke. Why is there always a trail of innocents left hurt or, worse dead, in your wake Dean? Have you ever really considered the answer?"

Sam jumped at the sound of a phone ringing. He looked at Bobby, who just shrugged and answered his phone. "Singer," he said his voice gruff. Bobby listened to the person on the other end of the line and when the person had finished talking Bobby calmly responded with the name and address of the motel he and Sam were held up in.

"Who the hell was that," Sam asked; a little taken back that Bobby had given out their local.

"A friend," Bobby replied.

Sam jumped up from the bed he had been sitting on. "Would you care to elaborate," he asked, his voice jumping an octave higher.

Bobby fixed Sam with an appraising gaze. He knew this had been hard on the younger man and he hated to see Sam be put through the ringer like this. However, he wasn't going to start putting up with any attitude. "Would you care to sit back down and listen while I tell you," he snapped back.

Chagrined, yet wisely compliant, Sam sat back down and waited for Bobby to fill him in.

Bobby took off his worn out trucker hat and began to pull at the bills frayed edge. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why he hadn't thought of this earlier. It's not like he didn't know about them and her; it's just like he forgot to remember.

Bobby cleared his throat, fixed Sam with a gentle stare and began to fill the younger man in. "That was an old friend of Dean's, he met her back in Chicago on one of the many hunting trips he used to take alone after you went to Stanford and your daddy all but deserted him.

He had gone to check out what he thought was a "typical" haunt but it turned out to be more than he had expected. He wound up getting himself tossed down a couple flights of stairs and he ended up pretty well banged up.

This friend was in her third year of medical school and was working a shift in the emergency room when your brother was brought in. She was one of the doctors assigned to his case. She took a special interest in him, you know how he rambles when he's on pain meds," Bobby paused and offered a fond smile of remembrance; shaking himself out of his reverie he continued on, "She felt a kinship in the loneliness the man had to have been surrounded by. She understood the need for family and the feeling of abandonment it was clear he felt. He reminded her of someone she had once loved very much.

Anyway, your brother's recovery was slow and one particularly rough night she called me in a panic. Seems Dean had had a terrible nightmare and he couldn't be calmed down. She had gone through his wallet and found my number in it. She called seeking some advice on what to do. She had noticed the way the other doctors had started acting towards him and was terrified he would end up locked up in the psych ward.

I told her how to handle him and explained that I would be there sometime the next day. When I arrived things were worse than I had thought. Turns out they had been ready to commit him. I managed to get them to hold off for a day and that night I sprung him. He wasn't in any real shape to travel so she offered to let us stay at her apartment until he was better suited to travel.

We ended up staying there for a couple weeks. In that time she had told him about how she had grew up in a small town in California called Charming. She told of how she had left home and her high school sweetheart behind because the life he was leading was one she hadn't wanted to share. She wanted to do something with her life and being a biker's old lady would have held her back.

The more they talked the more the similarities between her love, Jax, and your brother became clear. They each had lost a parent, Jax his dad, Dean your mother. They each were tough and did what ever needed to be done, but sometimes it was at a cost to them either physically, emotionally or both.

Anyway by the time we left we had all exchanged information and had over the years stayed in touch. Then this whole mess with the demons and angels exploded and we lost touch. The last I knew she had gone back to Charming because her dad had passed and she had started to see her old boyfriend again.

Dammit, Sam, I should have remembered. Nothing happens in this town that they don't know about. Could have saved us a lot of time if I had remembered. Sam she knows where Dean is."

Sam's expression was like a fish out of water and when he spoke the disbelief in his voice was thick, "Wait a minute! What? You mean to tell me that all this time there was someone here who knew where he was and they didn't think to call sooner or that you knew of someone who could have possibly helped and you didn't think to call them? Unbelievable!"

Sam had once again jumped up from the bed and started to pace, "Wow, you heard him," he paused to draw in a shaky breath, "You heard him crying out and you didn't _THINK_ to call this person. Dammit, Bobby we could have gotten to him earlier. He could be here with us instead of with them having god only knows what being done to him."

Sam stopped his pacing and glared at Bobby. "Well, where is he," Sam seethed out.

Bobby shook his head. He lifted his eyes towards the younger man and the look in them made Sam's heart sink. "It's not that easy son," Bobby quietly said, "There's been some complications. We can't just go in guns a blazin', they don't just have your brother anymore…."

"What! What do you mean we can't just go there!? It's Dean, Bobby we have to go. We have to try," Sam shouted out interrupting the elder hunter. Sam dropped heavily down on the edge of the bed. He had just gotten his brother back and now this. He had been kind of hard on Dean as of late and he didn't want the last the memory his brother had of him to be that of the fight they had had the night before.

Sam's shoulders slumped and he put his face in hands. When he lifted his face and looked at his surrogate father the pain and fear reflected in his eyes crushed the older man's heart. "We have to do something, Bobby," Sam whispered, "We have to. I can't lose him again."

Before Bobby could answer Sam's phone rang. Flipping the phone open Sam hopefully queried, "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy it's me. I need you to listen to me ok? Things have gotten real thick here and I can't see a way out of it. It's not just me their using anymore, they have a baby. Sammy this puts a whole new spin on things. We can't let anything happen to him," a fond smile crossed his lips at the expletive that fell from Sam's, "Listen, they will let the baby and his grandmother go if you come alone….."

"Okay, but what about you," Sam asked already knowing the answer and he closed his eyes at the thought of it.

"Doesn't matter. Now listen, we can't let them have you and we sure as hell can't let them hurt this kid, but I don't see a way to keep both of those from happening. I hate to say it but I think you're gonna have to come and come alone. This sucks Sammy. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone out last night. At last count that makes you 3 to my 0 in your being right.

You don't make a move until you know the baby and his grandmother are safe, you hear me. I don't care what you hear about me, they come first. You make sure they're clear or you don't come in you hear me. You get them out of here."

"You're gonna trust that they'll just let them go?"

Dean couldn't help but smile at the tone in his little brother's voice; he could picture the bitch face he was sure he was wearing in his mind, "What choice do we have? It's you they want. They're running out of time. Please don't make me repeat myself another two times. Look Sam, what choice do we have here?"

Sam knew Dean was right. He knew he had to do whatever he could to try to save the baby and his grandmother; he also realized that meant he was more than likely going to loose his brother, again. He let out a sigh. "Alright, tell me where and when."

A flame of warm hatred fanned and began to burn deep inside his soul when he heard Dean's captive reply, "Good boy, Sammy. Good boy. Now listen up and I'll tell you what you need to know."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I would like to apologize for how long this has taken to post. I was having a hard time deciding where I wanted to pick up and ended up landing here. I hope this doesn't disappoint and that the next update is faster than this one. All comments are welcome. Hope the holiday's were good to you and that this New Year will be a good one.

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><p>"What the fuck's your problem," Jax Teller growled through his hands that were clamped over his bleeding nose.<p>

"You," Sam barked back, "You're the reason we're in this mess; you and your little club. All Dean did was go out for a drink and the next thing we know he's gone missing. Turns out you and your merry band of nit-wits decided to use him as a punching bag and hell if I know what else. Don't you fact check before you go nabbing people off the streets?"

"We did check. That waitress showed our guy the trunk of your brother's car. There was pictures, surveillance type pictures, of Tara, my mom and son. He waited to make sure your brother went to that car before he nabbed him. We also ran a back ground check on both of you and I bet you can imagine what we found. Sorry, but we covered our bases," Jax accepted the towel Bobby had handed him and sighed, "Look I get it; your pissed. I know I would be; but, this isn't getting us anywhere. Tara filled me in on the way over and I'll be honest I don't know how much I believe but with my sons life on the line here I'm willing to listen. Can you lower that gun of yours so we can talk?"

Sam's posture stiffened and his grip on the gun tightened. There was no way he was going to trust this guy. Bobby may have been comfortable with trusting him but with Dean's well-being hanging in the balance Sam wasn't taking any chances.

"Sam," Bobby said his voice holding a cautioning tone, "put the gun down boy."

When Sam shook his head Bobby pulled out his best John Winchester impersonation, "Now, Samuel! You put that gun down…..now!"

"Like hell I will. You may be willing to put your trust in this dirt bag but I'm not," Sam started to hyperventilate but he kept up his tirade, "Bobby, this is Dean we're talking about. This person is the reason we're even having this conversation. You really want me to trust him? Dammit, Bobby! NO!"

"Sam, I hear what you're saying," Bobby caught Sam's look, "I do but, dammit, boy, we need to work together if we have any chance of saving that baby, his grandmother and Dean. We really don't have time for your attitude right now. Get your head outta your ass and let's get to figuring this out."

Tara let out a small laugh. "You sure haven't changed any Bobby," she stated after all eyes had turned to her. She turned her attention to Sam. "And, you," Tara said a smile gracing her lips, "You are just like that brother of yours; both to damn stubborn for your own good. Sam, I understand how you're feeling. I do; but, Bobby's right this isn't going to get us anywhere. I intend to do right by you, Dean and my little boy; but, you need to let me. Sam, I can't do this alone I'm going to need your help. Please?"

Sam looked deep into Tara's eyes and he could see the truth and emotions behind her words swirling in them. He nodded, lowered his gun and said in a flat tone, "Fine; but, any funny business and I_ will_ drop him where he stands….understood."

"Understood," Tara answered back then continued, "Now that that's settled let's get to planning."

Jax listened to all that Bobby and Sam had to say and with doubt still tugging at his insides he agreed to the plan. He didn't like it and just like Sam he didn't trust these strangers; however, he didn't see any other option. He rubbed at the small cut on his forearm, looked at the matching cut on Tara's arm and thought to himself, 'I'm going to have to have a long talk with Tara about her time spent in Chicago and what really went on there when this is all over.'


End file.
